


The Stranger

by Kayleecole21



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Masturbation, Sexual Content, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayleecole21/pseuds/Kayleecole21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While hiding in a run down shack, a woman peers out the window to see a worn down man indulging in some much needed sexual gratification.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stranger

You weren’t sure which was more likely to kill you today; the humidity or the walkers.   
You had already narrowly escaped two separate herds within the last 72 hours, and being a lone wolf in the zombie apocalypse was proving to be just as difficult as you had always feared it would be.   
You had been hauled up in your own basement for months, living off of your father’s survival supplies that he had spent years collecting. You knew better than to attempt to go outside. You had never been hunting a day in your life; you barely knew how to pitch a tent. You sat in that dark basement, you and your father, the two of you reliving memories of a life that would never return to you.   
However, the inevitable day eventually came, and the food had become increasingly scarce. Your father had ventured out to collect more supplies, the first time either of you had seen actual day since the initial outbreak; only to never return.   
You had waited two day before finally accepting what you already feared to be true. Your father was not coming back.   
You were terrified to leave the house, but you were not going to starve to death in a basement. You would rather be eaten alive, literally.   
After about a week, you didn’t have enough food to survive much longer, so you had packed a bag and started off on your way. You often slept in deserted cars or abandoned houses; making your way randomly through small towns and wooded areas.   
You knew better than to ever venture too close to any major city, those had been the very first places to fall victim to the virus.   
You often collected anything you thought might be capable of being a weapon; knives, a brick, and a heavy shovel that you had to drag behind you as you walked. You didn’t have much experience in using your found defenses though; you were much more of ‘hider’ than a ‘fighter.’   
Today, you were wandering around the steamed forest of a Georgia hilltop, trying to find any long lost cabins that may not have been ransacked yet. The air was thick, baked in the heat and humidity, making you choke as you climbed a small, rocky, hillside. Sweat was beaded across your brow as you wipe at your face with the back of your already damp arm.   
You came across a small wooden shack that was completely overgrown with weeds. You eye it cautiously as you approach but don’t see anything to make you suspicious of danger. The place was barely being held together as you push the unlocked door open. Someone had for sure already raided the place. Everything was dumped out of the cupboards and drawers and sprawled across the dirt floor. You knew better than to expect anything of worth being left behind.   
As you make your way back across the hovel, you hear rustling outside which makes you instantly drop down to your hands and knees. You crawl your way over to the grime-covered window to peak slowly out at whatever had been moving outside.   
To your absolute astonishment, you see a man. A living man.   
The last living person you had seen since the end of days had been your father. You were truly starting to believe that you were the only person a heartbeat in all of Georgia. You were ecstatic to find yourself proven wrong.   
The man was worn, unshaven, and weary. Sweat was visibly dripping off of his long, filthy locks. Dirt was caked onto his sun-tanned skin. He looked as if he had seen the very worst that this savage world had to offer.  
Dead vermin hung from a string on his shoulder and a heavy crossbow was draped across his back. Muscles and veins both protruded shamelessly down his thick arms, and filthy, hole-ridden jeans clung to his thin hips.   
This man looked exhausted. He quickly dropped his small hunting trophies and his crossbow at the trunk of a near by tree. He shed his sleeveless shirt as if he were pealing off skin.   
Scars were lashed across his back; wounds that had taken place years before. Long, thin slices had been taken out of this man’s skin, the lowest of which dipped down into his jeans. He had several faded tattoos as well, demons or dragons from what you could make out through the disgusting glass.   
The man grabbed the tree with one hand and rested his forehead against the bark, closing his eyes and not making a sound. After several moments, you began to wonder if he had fallen asleep while standing up, and started to question weather you dared to try and make a break for it from the rickety old cabin.   
Before you had time to make a confirmed decision, however, the man exhaled deeply and his left arm that had been hanging limply at his side swung quickly in front of him.   
You watched as the man slowly ran his dirty fingers down the length of his damp chest, slowly, finally coming to a stop at the button of his pants. His fingers dipped down below the waist line without undoing the denim, and you found yourself in awe as the thick hand began to quickly stroke and roll against his groin.   
For a moment you look away, quickly realizing what it is you’re about to witness. You crouch down under the window, and wonder exactly how long this will last and how long you will have to hide until the man continues on his way. You don’t know him, he could be dangerous. He could do much worse than eat you alive. Whoever had survived this long out here, they had to be hardened and incapable of normal human interaction.   
However, before you can argue further with yourself, a painful ache shakes you from your core and you know that you want to watch; you know that you have to. You bite your lip and you push off of the dirt ground, slowly rising again to peer at this stranger through the window.   
The man was moving his hand viciously against himself, up and down. His pace was ferocious and you could see the unbelievable hunger in his eyes. His eyes were pointed at his crotch, watching his own hand work up a sweat against intimidatingly throbbed shaft, the outline of which was painfully obvious through his strained pants.   
His other hand quickly left the tree and flung open the button and zipper of the jeans, allowing him to brandish a swollen and fully erect cock, the likeness to which you had never seen.   
His hand gripped at the base tightly, squeezing upwards with a delicious rhythm. Every other stroke, his thumb would run across the slit in the tip, making nectar quickly continue to pool there with every new pull.   
His breathing had become labored; he had leaned his back up against the tree for leverage, still standing as he closed his eyes tightly and threw his head backward.   
You couldn’t help but stare as the muscles in his arm twitched and ached as he pleasured himself; each one flexing in a different direction than the last.   
You were becoming more and more aware of your quickened breath, your heart that now had made a new home in your throat and the magnificent ache that was pulsating through your own sex as you watched the man growl and moan through clenched teeth.   
Still on your hands and knees, you feel the tips of your fingers dip below your waistline, quickly making the journey to nudge playfully at the gathering of nerves between your legs. You find yourself caressing your slit, pushing playfully up and down on it with the pads of your fingers, causing a flood of anticipation to escape down your thighs.   
You never take your eyes off of him. He was pulling with a desperation and furry that lit a fire in your belly. You had no doubt about how badly he must have needed this; how hungry he must be to feel those few split seconds of glorious release. He needed to feel the tension wash from his mind and his muscles roll down his body through the thunderous climax in which he was chasing.   
His teeth were clasped down on his bottom lip, obviously trying to stiffen moans that were bubbling just beneath the surface. Your own fingers had begun a rhythmic massage that you had not allowed yourself in months.   
You watch out the glass and the man kicks his legs out wider, allowing his jeans to drop down to his ankles, showing you thick thighs and bruised knees. You quickly pull down your own pants, pushing them down on top of the knees in which you still sat, before quickly returning to nursing your clit to a over anticipated and long over due release.   
The man had grabbed a hold of a low hanging tree branch and was holding on for leverage, and dear life, rocking against it as he choked his own shaft shamelessly.   
“Ah, fuck…”   
The obscenity escapes his lips in an unmistakable growl and your core gushes at the sound of his raspy voice. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you quickly probe yourself with one, two and then a third nimble finger, your walls aching and pulsating against your digits. You wince at the vicious spread of your core, having not explored this part of yourself in ages.   
You push deeper within yourself, reaching desperately for the buddle of mind bending nerve endings that will send you tumbling over the point of no return.   
The stranger outside had abandoned his point of leverage with the tree branch and was now slowly moving a hand around the back of his body. Although it was out of view from your hiding place within the shack, you watch as the man shivers shamelessly while plunging a finger deep within himself, exploring all of his pleasure possibilities.   
After taking a deep intake of breath, you watch as the man begins to slowly remove and re insert his fingers, clenching his eyes and grunting with every new exploration.   
This new act has you diving into your sex with a fury that you know will leave you raw and aching. You can feel yourself begin to lose control as you choke back loud, painful gasps.   
You fall against the dust-covered windowsill, so close to the end that you had become incapable of remaining up right. The man’s contact with his own prostate had seemed to do the trick; his thumb was running circles around the tip of his purple head, and sweat was dripping off of his nose as he watched his assault on his own body.   
With one final plunge into himself, the man gripped himself treacherously as hot foam erupted from him and spilled across the weeds below.   
Losing control, you fall in a heap onto the dirt floor, rubbing your clit maddeningly as you pumped your hips upward, egging yourself onto your climax. You heave for breath as your legs fall in a limp pile and you throw an arm over your eyes, trying to regain your composure as every muscle in your body aches and contours through your mind warping orgasm.   
As you lay there, eyes still clenched, the scent of your sweat and climax heavy in the air, suddenly the flimsy cabin door was thrown open. You immediately sit up and grab at your jeans that still cling tightly to your thighs.   
The man had walked into the cabin and was standing above you now, watching you fumble with your pants and glancing out the grime stained windowpane.   
“You get a good fuckin’ look? Huh?”  
“I’m sorry… I just…”   
“Yeah, I know what you ‘just.’ What’s your name?”  
“I…Um.” You were shocked and unsure what to say to him; unable to read his emotions or intentions.   
“I’m Daryl.”


End file.
